


Reprieve

by blackcoffeeandteardrops



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergent, F/M, Maybe - Freeform, Post-Episode: s09e16 William
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-18 02:18:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16108718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackcoffeeandteardrops/pseuds/blackcoffeeandteardrops
Summary: Canon compliant through 9x16 but it diverges from there. Essentially, Mulder hears about what happened with William, and he attempts to make things right.





	1. Chapter 1

Mulder had heard through the proverbial grapevine what had happened. Things back home in D.C. were far worse than he thought, and Scully had been forced to make the ultimate sacrifice. Giving up the son she’d wanted for years was not an easy decision for her, he knew that, and yet a tiny part of him resented her for it. 

The night he’d gotten the call--after a few somewhat conspicuous e-mails from Skinner, he’d used a payphone in the back of a bar, where his former boss confirmed his suspicions--Mulder had gone back to the hotel and punched a hole through the wall. He left early the next morning, thankful he paid in cash and stayed under an alias so they couldn’t track him down and make him pay for repairs.

His first instinct had been to hightail it back home. He could only imagine the horrors that awaited him there. Upon second thought however, he knew he couldn’t exactly return to Scully empty handed. What kind of gift to the woman who’d given him everything would that be? The whole reason he’d left in the first place was to guarantee both hers and William’s safety, and he couldn’t even do that. 

Sighing, Mulder bit his lip so hard he tasted blood, and he marched up to the counter at the bus station, buying a ticket on the first Greyhound out of town. He wasn’t headed home, not yet. 

When he climbed on the bus, he clutched a worn out bag to his chest and stared out the window. The sound of an infant crying brought him back to reality. A woman sitting across the aisle smiled apologetically, all the while rubbing her daughter’s back. 

“She should calm down once we get moving. But I suspect she’s not feeling well,” the woman said, by way of explanation.

Mulder nodded in reply. “It’s okay,” he said, reaching into his bag for a worn out paperback, not intending to be rude but hoping the woman would take it as a sign that he wasn’t looking for a conversation. Tucked between the pages of the books was a picture of William and Scully, one he’d taken the day before he left. He knew it was in the book, knew it because every night before he fell asleep, he’d hold the picture and stare at their faces, and he’d hope he’d see them soon. The picture had been a source of comfort before, a talisman that kept him grounded and reminded him why he had to keep fighting, but seeing it again filled him with something kin to sadness mixed with anger. He closed the book as the bus took off, and he stared out the window, trying to convince himself the anger wasn’t at Scully, but rather at the impossible situation they’d been faced with.

It wasn’t right, he thought, after everything they’d gone through, that this is how they’d end up. That William had been carted off to who knew where while he was on a bus headed west, and Scully was back in D.C. doing “not well” as Skinner had put it. He knew he should head back, should at least try to fix whatever was left of their lives, but he was reluctant to do so, both out of self preservation and an unwillingness to accept their newfound reality.

Before too long, Mulder was lulled to sleep. When he woke up, they were pulling into another station. The bus driver stated he needed to refuel, and lucky for them he’d said there was a nice diner inside the station as well as several shops they could peruse while they waited. Mulder bought a sausage biscuit and a coffee that was on the wrong side of burnt and walked over to a bank of payphones. It occurred to him that in a few years such things would fade out of existence, what with the invention of cellular phones. He’d had one back home, but it had been ditched. He couldn’t run the risk of being tracked. 

“Who is this?” Skinner asked, upon finally answering on the other end.

“Sir, it’s me, and--”

“I thought we agreed it was best to sever contact for the time being. And aside from that, am I really the person you should be reaching out to right now?”

Mulder closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to the cold metal of the phone booth. “I know, sir, but I can’t reach out to her about this. Not yet.”

“What are you talking about?” Skinner asked.

“I need you to tell me where he is,” Mulder replied, keeping his voice low. He hadn’t even known exactly what he planned until the words left his mouth, but now he’d never felt more convinced. “I need to find him, and I need to bring him--”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea? You’re not exactly in a position at the moment to be keeping anyone, let alone him, safe. You don’t know what it’s been--”

“Then what was the point of you tracking me down and telling me? To add to the difficulty I’m already facing?” Mulder cried, clutching the receiver so tightly he feared it might break.

“I just meant…” Skinner trailed off. Across the miles, Mulder could practically picture the older man taking his glasses off and rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Circumstances here aren’t entirely ideal for the two of you to be taking care of him. This line is secure, Mulder, but that’s about all I’m able to say at the moment.”

“Then I’ll come back for Scully, and we’ll go someplace else. We’ll get out of what’s left of your hair, Walter, and you’ll never have to see us again,” Mulder said, realizing full well he was pleading with him, despite having no real bargaining chips in his pocket. “I just--” he started, but he paused, feeling a lump grow in his throat. “I need to see my son. I know you were part of the process, okay? So all I need is something to go on. A dot on a map, someplace to start. You and I both know this isn’t what she wanted, and this isn’t what’s best for either of them,” he continued, growing increasingly convinced that what he was saying was true. He could only hazard a guess at circumstances back home, but for Scully to give up the miracle child they’d created together, he knew they weren’t good.

The line grew quiet, so much so that Mulder feared Skinner had disconnected the call. Eventually, Skinner cleared his throat and sighed. “What’s your schedule number?”

“My what?” Mulder asked.

“I need to know what bus you’re on, so I know the route, so once you reach your destination, I can have the information you need waiting there for you,” Skinner replied.

Mulder pulled the ticket from his jacket and rattled the number off to him. He tamped down the hope that began to flicker, because he knew it was far from over. 

“Be careful, Mulder. Don’t do anything that would put him at even greater risk. I think we both know how she’d feel about that,” Skinner said, by way of warning.

A tinny voice warned Mulder that if he wanted to continue the call, he’d have to insert more money. He thanked Skinner again and disconnected instead. He finished the last of his breakfast sandwich, wiping the crumbs from his face as he tossed the wrapper in the trash. He boarded the bus feeling more determined than ever to set things right. 

It wasn’t until Mulder reached the last stop that he even realized the enormity of what he planned to do. Someone from the depot approached him, confirmed his identity, and handed him a thick envelope she was instructed to provide him. When she walked away, he held the envelope in his hands, afraid to open it for fear of being burned. Inside would be the location of his son. He glanced about, tears burning his eyes, and for a split second he considered tossing the envelope in the trash. Sure, he’d asked Skinner for help, but he wondered if William would be better off staying where he was.

He approached a bench in the corner, telling himself he’d just take a look, and decide then what he’d do next. Inside the envelope was a handful of cash--enough, he assumed, to reach where he’d need to go--and an address scratched out on an index card. His jaunt across the country had taken him to Oregon, because of course it did, but to get to William, he’d need to go to Wyoming. How his son had ended up across the country, he could only guess, but Mulder stood up with a sudden resolve. He approached the desk and purchased a ticket before winding his way back to the bench to wait. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out the photograph of William, curling his hands around it like a secret. His eyes ran over the boy’s face and his impossibly tiny hands and feet, and he wondered how much he’d grown. Before long, the intercom announced his bus was leaving, and he again stood, ready to get things over with.

Once in Wyoming, he rented a car, knowing he couldn’t very well show up on foot. Then again, he thought, no matter the vehicle, there was no easy way to walk into someone’s house and demand them to give you your child. As he maneuvered his way, Mulder realized he had no clue what to say. These people, whoever they were, had agreed to raise William as their own. They’d only had him for a matter of a few weeks, but surely they’d grown attached. They’d changed him, bathed him, sang to him, and held him. The last one made his arms ache for the weight he’d felt for so brief a time. 

When he pulled up across the street from the address written on the index card, he realized something was wrong almost immediately. There were a few cars out front, nondescript enough, but something about the scene made him feel uneasy. Against the curb, a man sat in a van, trying his best to look inconspicuous. If not for his training as an agent, Mulder may not have suspected anything more than someone waiting for a friend, but as he headed up the drive he heard the van door open and the sound of the man approaching him. 

“Can I help you, sir?” the man asked.

Mulder turned, sheepishly rubbing at his neck. For a minute, he wondered if maybe he’d guessed wrong and this was a relative of the couple inside, or maybe the husband himself. But the way he stood, pushing his jacket back just enough for Mulder to catch a glimpse of his gun, made him realize it wasn’t true. “I’m just here to visit my cousin. They’ve got a new kid, you know, and I just wanted to see him.”

The man eyed him suspiciously. “You come visit a new baby and don’t bring any gifts? Some cousin you are, huh? Listen, you’d better get going. They’re actually sleeping, and--”

Before he could say anything else, Mulder decked him, hoping it was enough. Whatever was going on here, something was very wrong. He held the man’s neck in a lock, pulling him close while still pinning him in place. “Who sent you here? Are you here for the baby? Is he here?”

“I--” the man choked, gasping for air until Mulder let up pressure enough to let him speak. “They’re inside, finishing the job, I--”

Mulder’s heart stopped. He’d heard from Scully before he left the dangers she’d faced while pregnant, and having witnessed the chaos surrounding William’s birth, he knew first hand the lengths people would go when it came to his son. To have come all this way, only to learn he’d come too late, made him grow cold. “Why does he have to die? Can you at least tell me that much?”

The man hesitated so long that Mulder tightened his grip on his neck in hopes of forcing him to respond, causing stars to pepper his vision. “He doesn’t,” he gasped. “He wants the boy to live. He said...he said it’s important that we bring him back alive.”

It was all the motivation Mulder needed. Once the man started fighting back, he twisted his neck, pulling back on his windpipe for good measure. Leaving him on the lawn for passersby to see seemed like a bad idea, but he headed for the door, knowing he didn’t have much time. In the living room, a man lay in a pool of blood. As he headed upstairs, quickly drawing his gun, he spotted pictures on the wall that confirmed it was the man who lived there. 

“Please, don’t--” a woman’s voice cried before the sound of gunfire exploded down the hall. 

Mulder ran the rest of the way, rounding into a room he quickly realized was a nursery. A woman he could only assume was William’s adopted mother--he cringed at the word, however accurate it might have been--lay on the floor between two men staring at a crib in the corner. He couldn’t see William, but the mobile above him was spinning like crazy as he let out a piercing cry. 

“What the hell is he doing? We need to get him out of here,” one of the men said, frowning in confusion when the other, several inches shorter, pressed a hand against his arm to stop him. “We were given a job, and we need to complete it.”

“Yes,” his partner replied, pointing to the mobile. “But look what he’s doing. We were told he was special, but who knows what else he can do? We need to be careful, or--” he turned, eyes widening, at Mulder emerging from the shadowed doorway. 

“You aren’t going anywhere with him,” Mulder said, raising his gun, but praying they’d move away from the crib. There was no way he’d ever dream of putting his son in danger.

“And who are you to stop us?” the taller man spoke, regarding Mulder with an air of suspicion. “He warned us we might have trouble collecting the boy, but I never imagined we’d have this much resistance.”

“Who sent you?” Mulder bellowed, stepping further into the room. He carefully skirted around the woman’s body, inching closer to the crib as the men circled away, still close enough to reach him but further away from Mulder’s gun. The sight of William’s face, despite it being contorted in confusion and sadness, caused Mulder’s heart to swell. “Who sent you? What does anyone want with him, enough to kill the people tasked with raising him?”

The shorter man cleared his throat, gesturing wildly toward the crib where the mobile appeared to be picking up speed. One of the felt animals, dangling from a thread, seemed dangerously close to flying off. “You see what he’s doing, don’t you? We can take him somewhere his abilities will be cared for, somewhere he’ll be appreciated.”

Mulder shook his head before charging forward, pressing him to the wall. He watched as the man’s lips turned turned purple and his eyes bulged out. “See, that’s where you’re wrong,” he said, pulling him away from the wall and all but dragging him out into the hall, painfully aware of the gun the man’s partner had aimed at his own head. “You’re not taking my son anywhere,” he said. He pressed the gun against the man’s chest and pulled the trigger. 

“Look, dude, I don’t know who you are,” the taller man said, holding his hands up. He paused, pressing a hand against his graying hairline that was lined with sweat, despite the chill that permeated the house. “That boy is dangerous. He was left in the hands of people who can’t protect him. He’s a special boy, and I have to--”

Mulder’s eyes pressed on the man, and he watched as finally, he crossed the threshold into the hall. This man, much like the others he’d come across, weren’t the brains behind the operation, and he had a very strong suspicion of who was pulling the strings. Still, he couldn’t risk him getting away, whether he had William or not. “That boy is my son, and you’re not taking him anywhere,” Mulder said, gripping his shirt and urging him backwards towards the stairs. The man raised his gun, intending to shoot, but not before Mulder shot him first, pushing him down the stairs for good measure. 

All at once, the house seemed eerily silent, the cacophony of noise settling down into a quiet hush. Mulder drew a deep breath, keenly aware he needed to hurry. He was fairly certain Spender was behind all of this, and it was only a matter of time before he sent someone else. Even if he didn’t, the neighbors were sure to have heard something, and had likely already phoned police. 

Mulder made his way back into the nursery, grabbing a bag and stuffing it without giving things too much thought. He could stop somewhere along the way for baby food and whatever else he might need, but he wasn’t about to leave his son without clothes and diapers. His son, he thought, stepping towards the crib. Above William, the mobile had ceased moving, save for the slight rocking of the animals dangling from it. 

“Hi,” Mulder said, surprising himself at how shaky his voice was. He reached for William, keeping his movements slow despite the necessity to leave quickly, for fear of scaring him. When his eyes locked with William’s blue ones however, it was like he seemed to understand that this was important. Holding his son for the first time in months should’ve been a much more joyous occasion, but Mulder pressed a kiss to the boy’s head and hoped they’d have time later for that. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his lips ghosting against the boy’s hair. It was a reddish brown, somewhere between his and Scully’s, and it was the softest thing Mulder had ever felt. “William, I’ve missed you so much. You have no idea.”

In his arms, William let out a little cry, his bottom lip jutting out as his eyes watered in confusion. Still, he reached out a pudgy hand and pressed it against Mulder’s cheek, as if offering encouragement despite the fact he was still too young to speak. 

“I’m your dad, buddy. And I’m here to protect you, okay? I know these are your things,” Mulder said, trying his best to speak calmly. He reached into the crib and pulled out a stuffed whale. William’s hand left his cheek, and Mulder had to laugh at the impatient way the boy’s fingers curled as he reached for the toy. “Okay, you can keep this one. But we have to leave the rest. I can get you some more once it’s safe, okay?”

As he cradled William against one hip and a bag of his belongings on the other, Mulder carefully maneuvered his way back outside, hurriedly crossing the street to the car. He’d had the foresight to purchase a car seat along the way, and carefully buckled William inside. As he secured his son, the boy’s eyes never left him. Mulder thought of what he saw, of what William did to the mobile above his crib. He couldn’t help wondering what else he could do, but even as he thought that, he knew it didn’t matter. William was safe, at least for now. He planted a kiss against the boy’s face before handing him the stuffed whale, and then he jumped into the driver’s seat, eager to get away, already thinking it was a miracle no nosy neighbors had come out and caught a glimpse of the action. 

“Do you like music, Will?” Mulder asked, only second guessing the nickname after it left his mouth. He wondered what the couple who’d been keeping him had called his son, let alone what nicknames Scully might have been partial to. Scully, he thought, freeing one hand from the wheel to turn the stereo on. He’d have to reach out to her eventually, have to find somewhere safe for the three of them to reunite. He found a station playing classic rock as he followed signs to the highway. “We’ll stop when it’s safe, okay?” Mulder said, even as he realized he didn’t know how soon that would be. 

Mulder lost track of what state they were in, but he kept driving until his eyes blurred together. William had, for the most part, settled down, although Mulder suspected that was perhaps due to the rhythm of the road. He spotted a sign for a rest stop and, needing to stretch his legs while also figuring William needed his diaper changed, pulled into the lot. 

“Alright, buddy,” he said, upon reaching in to unbuckle William from his car seat. It struck him in the fluorescent light of the streetlamp that his son's eyes looked so much like Scully’s. “Like your mom,” he muttered, not realizing until afterward that he'd spoken aloud. “Ready for a break? Ooh yeah,” he continued, scrunching his nose. “You do need changed. Come on, let’s go.”

As Mulder walked into the rest stop, he couldn't help thinking how light his son was in his arms. He wanted so badly to get used to the feeling of tiny hands clutching at his shirt and the way the boy nestled his head into his chest. He'd have thought William might not have reacted so well to someone who was technically a stranger to him, but he was grateful all the same. 

After grabbing a few basic supplies, Mulder dashed into the bathroom for himself but, casting a glance around, he realized there was nowhere he felt it was clean enough to lay William down to change him. “Backseat of the car it is,” he muttered, only to be met with mild babbling from William. 

He headed out to the car and got out the necessary supplies before pausing, his hands hovering over William, who’d suddenly decided he wanted to wiggle around. It struck him as he pulled back the tiny tabs and went about changing his son that Scully had done this many times before him. Scully, he thought, his breath hitching in his throat, who was halfway across the country, oblivious to their kid’s whereabouts. Scully, who’d changed their son one day not too long ago, thinking it would be the last time. The choice to give William up had been hers, but he hadn’t been there to help her, let alone stop her from making a decision he knew she regretted. He’d made a choice in deciding to get their son back, although he hadn’t exactly counted on bullets being involved, but he was just thankful he and William had both survived unscathed. He stepped back from the car, tilting his head to the side and surveying his work. The tabs keeping the new diaper closed weren’t exactly straight, but as long as they did what they were supposed to, he considered it a job well done. “Not bad for a first time, huh?” he asked, working to fasten William back in his car seat.

As Mulder went to get in the car himself, his eyes caught sight of a payphone outside the rest stop. His fingers flexed against the steering wheel, and he knew he should call Scully. He should pick up the phone, drop in a few quarters, and tell her everything that had happened since he left, especially the last few hours. He wanted to, but he also knew the longer they stayed in one place, the greater chance remained of them being found. There was also a part of him, a small part that still existed all the same, that whispered at him to wait for other reasons. He didn’t resent her decision, not really, but he still felt protective of the small moments he had with William.

He merged onto one highway for a bit before switching to another, and then he switched back, deciding that he’d head east. Going back home wasn’t an option, not yet, but he could head in the general direction, and get a hotel room. He’d driven for far longer than he’d been used to, and William had given up his peaceful baby act in favor of crying. He pulled up to a drive thru to get food for himself and then checked them into a cheap motel that looked a bit nicer than some he’d stayed in by himself in days gone by. Once safely inside, he started unpacking their meager belongings.

“You cool with bananas and cereal, Will?” Mulder asked, noting how the boy had perked up at noticing the food. A pang of guilt coursed through him at that, realizing how hungry the boy had to be. “I’m sorry we didn’t stop sooner. I had to make sure we’d be okay,” he said, preparing the food. It wasn’t perfect, positioning William on one leg to eat his banana and cheerios while eating his own cheeseburger and fries with the other, but Mulder made do as best he could. 

William was, for the most part, content to shove pieces of banana into his mouth while picking up pieces of cereal along the way. It wasn’t until he saw Mulder shoving a fry into his mouth that he reached out his hand, flexing his fingers at the fry, clearly signaling that he wanted one.

“Oh, I don’t think your mom would--” Mulder began, cutting himself off before realizing that for one thing, Scully wasn’t there, and that also, there was no reasoning with a child William’s age. His lip quivered, his eyes brimming with tears, and it was all Mulder could do to give him just one fry to nibble on to keep him from crying. 

After dinner, Mulder cleaned him up and changed him into a set of pajamas he’d nabbed before they’d run from the house. He settled them both on the bed and fumbled through the channels, desperately needing sleep but also wanting to see if what had happened had ended up on the news. If it had, it hadn’t made the national level yet, which he supposed wasn’t much of a surprise. A group of people intending to kidnap a baby who they believed had special abilities knew how to cover their tracks. 

The thought occurred to Mulder that he’d seen the proof of William’s abilities himself. He’d seen the way the mobile over his crib moved, but he hadn’t seen any evidence of anything he could do aside from that. What caused his abilities he didn’t know, but as the boy nestled into his side, Mulder knew it didn’t matter. William was his son, and that was what remained important. 

Bedtime proved to be more difficult. He wasn’t about to pull out a dresser drawer and make his son sleep in that, and dragging the carseat in wasn’t an option either. He decided on arranging the pillows in a way that would make William safe, and then settled in himself. He remembered the night before he’d left, staring down at William, laying peacefully between he and Scully. Scully had been hesitant about it at first, spouting off about documented cases where infants sleeping in the bed weren’t safe, but knowing it would be their last night together, she’d eventually caved in. He glanced over at the phone, and again thought of calling her. He didn’t quite know how she’d take it, but it was still something she deserved to know.

As if William could read his thoughts, William raised his tiny fists and began to cry. No amount of rubbing on his tummy or whispering soothing words would do. Mulder wondered what, if anything, William had retained from his time with Scully. Brains were more her territory, but Mulder figured surely babies knew who their parents were. 

Eventually, but especially after Mulder got up and paced about, rubbing on William’s back while singing an old Elvis song terribly off key, William settled down. Mulder waited until he was sure his son was asleep before he decided it was safe enough to wind down himself. He kept a hand securely on William’s body, as if doing so could ward off any harm. 

Before sleep claimed him, he decided he’d call Skinner in the morning. Using his former boss as a middle man was a safer option, he decided. “Things will be better soon,” Mulder whispered, watching the steady rise and fall of William’s chest. Satisfied that they were safe, Mulder let himself fall asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Scully looked both ways before crossing the path to the bench where she saw Skinner sitting. “What’s going on, sir?” she asked, worry laced through her voice. She sat her bag on the ground and perched herself on the opposite end of the bench, close enough to the edge that she wasn’t quite comfortable. Whatever this conversation was about, she suspected it wasn’t good. Skinner still wasn’t speaking, so she crossed her arms and cleared her throat. “If this were about a case, we’d be meeting in your office. Why the cloak and dagger act?”

Skinner reached into his coat pocket and produced an envelope. “There’s a car waiting for you about two blocks from here. The driver has been instructed to take you back to your apartment where you’ll pack a bag. He’ll meet up with another driver who’ll follow you, in the lead car, until they’ve verified you weren’t followed. The address in here will take you to--”

“Will take me to what?” Scully asked, the weariness that had plagued her for weaks coming through in her voice. When she’d gotten the call from him that morning, she’d been almost grateful for the chance to leave her apartment, but now she wasn’t sure. “I know I said I felt comfortable working cases again, but with all due respect sir, I can’t exactly work without nothing to go on. Perhaps Agents Reyes and Doggett could take this one.””

Skinner adjusted his coat, nodding at a few innocent joggers as they made their way past them. He waited until they were out of earshot to continue speaking. “I know what you’ve been through recently, Agent Scully. The choices you’ve been forced to make, and--”

“Cut the crap,” Scully replied, her patience growing thin. When he turned to face her without a hint of surprise or a suggestion that she’d receive a reprimand for her outburst, she knew he was being serious. Giving up William was the hardest thing she’d done, a decision born under very difficult circumstances, a fact he well knew, which is why she suspected this was about more than a simple case. “Something’s coming, isn’t it? It’s not safe here, and so you’d like me to go,” she said, nodding her head as she reached for the envelope. She was already drafting an apology in her head, of what she’d say to her mother once she was far enough away. “I need you to keep tabs on my mother, make sure she’s well protected. And I know you’ve been keeping tabs on Mulder, so please,” she said, her voice breaking. “I need you to warn him not to come back here.”

“I could do that, yes,” Skinner replied, slowly nodding as he reached for his briefcase. He eyed a flock of birds flying overhead as he moved to stand up. “Mulder’s been made aware, and he’ll be waiting at that location for you. I’ll leave the rest of the details up to the two of you, but you don’t have much time.”

“Mulder?” Scully cried, his name like water on her tongue. The hand holding the envelope began to shake as she pictured his face, lit up with the relief of seeing her again. That relief would be crushed, she knew, the moment she told him that she’d given William up. She was desperate to see him again--she’d lost count of the number of times she’d read his e-mail, the one she’d printed and carried around in her pocket--but she didn’t want to go to him empty handed. “Sir, I can’t.”

Skinner shrugged, reluctant to tell her much else. “I know what you’re thinking, and I get it. But the two of you are better together than you’ve ever been apart.”

Scully stood, nervously clutching the envelope. “Why are you doing this? Helping us form some elaborate escape plan?”

Skinner stared down at his shoes for a moment, buying himself some time. “You’re an incredible agent, and so is Mulder. But I’ve seen what this job, what this life, has done to the both of you. This is your chance to get away from everything. What you do with it is up to you,” he said, pointing to the curb behind them. “Two blocks that way.”

“But--” Scully said, already knowing her decision was made. She’d go to Mulder, and she’d tell him everything, and even if they couldn’t have their son, at least they’d have each other. She just prayed he’d have the heart to forgive her, and that he’d see her intentions had been pure. Before she could thank Skinner, he turned to leave, which left her with nothing to do but head to the car that was waiting for her.

At her apartment, Scully packed a suitcase, staring mournfully at all the things she was leaving behind. Rationally, she knew it wasn’t important. Most of it was things like clothes and books that she could always purchase again, but it was the thought behind it all that counted. This had been her home, her sanctuary away from all the crazy things that happened. Granted, it hadn’t always proven to be a safe place, but it had been her home all the same. It had also been William’s home, she thought, eyeing the closed door of the room that had served as his nursery. In the weeks since giving him up, she hadn’t been able to build the courage to open the door. She’d asked Monica to clean it out, wanting to leave little trace of the crib and toys that had once adorned the room. She’d kept a few onesies and hats, as a hollow reminder of the child she’d always think of as her own. Her hand hovered on the handle, as if by opening the door, she’d magically see everything as it once was, and as if the past several weeks hadn’t happened.

After taking one last lap around the apartment, packing up a few photo albums and family keepsakes along the way, she wheeled her suitcase towards the door and sighed. She suspected agents would be along soon to package everything up, maybe lock it away in a storage facility somewhere. There were protocols about such things, she knew, but it didn’t make leaving any easier. It was strange, she thought, leaving somewhere and knowing it would be the last time.

Once on the road, each mile that brought her closer to Mulder caused the butterflies fluttering in her stomach to multiply. They’d been reunited before, but this was different. She turned on NPR and listened to the droning on of some author having written a memoir about struggles they’d faced in their life, and she thought how any other time she might find the story fascinating, but as she watched the numbers on her odometer tick away, she couldn’t bring herself to care.

In her head, Scully counted the days since she’d seen Mulder last. She thought of the way she’d pretended to be asleep when he kissed her forehead, and of the way he’d told William he loved him, and had bitten her lip so hard it bled to keep herself from begging him to stay. It hadn’t been safe for any of them to stay there together, a fact she still found incredibly unfair, and while Mulder’s original purpose in leaving had been to put a stop to the evils that plagued them, she couldn’t help thinking that she’d failed at her purpose, which had been to keep their son safe.

At that thought, she considered changing course. She was less than thirty minutes from their planned meeting point, but she could easily change highways and head elsewhere, maybe towards California, although her plan of staying with Bill and Tara for a while quickly dissolved as she recalled the numerous calls from her brother after he’d learned through their mother what she’d done. A small part of Scully hoped her mother could find it in her heart to forgive the decision she’d made in giving William up for adoption, but if the voicemails from Bill were any indication, the greetings she’d receive should she choose to head his way would not be positive ones. She gripped the steering wheel tighter and thought of Charlie, living further south.The last either of them had heard from him he’d been in Florida, but she didn’t know how to reach him now.

She could go somewhere new, start off fresh. Maybe cut and dye her hair, change her name, adopt an accent even. If she asked the right people, she could have a new identity by morning. The image appeared in her mind of Mulder waiting and waiting at their meeting place, checking his watch periodically, thinking maybe she’d gotten caught in traffic. She wondered how long it would take him to realize she wasn’t coming at all. Her heart hammered in her chest and tears blurred her eyes, and as much as she hated the thought of going to Mulder without their son in tow, she hated the thought of not showing up even more. As much as she dreaded confessing to Mulder what she’d done, provided Skinner hadn’t told him already, she at the very least owed him the truth.

Scully pulled up to their planned meeting place and was only mildly surprised to find it was a gas station. It was off the main roads, which suggested they didn’t get as much traffic, and as such they wouldn’t run the risk of being seen, and even if they did most people would mind their business and not ask questions. She didn’t see him in the parking lot, and so she decided to head into the store in hopes of using their restroom to clean herself up a little before he arrived. The mirror was dingy and one of the overhead lights flickered, but she was able to comb her fingers through her hair and splash her face with water to hopefully rinse off some of the dust from the road. She reached into her purse and applied a thin coat of lipstick, feeling herself blush as she realized what she was doing. They’d seen each other in far worse circumstances, and she doubted he’d even care, but she still wanted to make an effort all the same.

As she rounded the corner to the side of the building, she caught sight of him, standing with his back to her and propped against the driver’s side door. For a second, she thought he might be talking to someone, but then she remembered the way she’d rehearsed in her head what she’d planned to say to him, so she figured he might be muttering to himself. She wrung her hands together, feeling her pulse quicken as she cleared her throat. “Mulder?”

Mulder turned to her, eyes wary, and slowly took several steps in her direction. ‘’'Scully…” he said, raising his arms as if to pull her in, stopping only when she held out a hand to ward him off.

She'd wanted to see him so badly, wanted to touch him and be held in his arms for as long as he was willing, but that need was interrupted by the sound of crying coming from somewhere behind him. Save for the car she'd driven and another across the lot that she assumed belonged to the clerk, Mulder's was the only one around. She stepped forward, eyes watering, as she realized where the crying was coming from. “Mulder, what did you do?”

There wasn't malice in her voice, but there wasn't relief either. Mulder watched as she pushed past him, pressing her palm to the window, staring with her mouth agape at William who was sitting inside. “This isn't how I planned to tell you, but Scully--”

“Don't,” she said, stepping away as he leaned in. William's crying made her heart ache. She wanted to tear open the door and hold her son close, but at the same time, she couldn't let herself believe any of it was real.

“I found him, Scully. It's okay,” Mulder insisted, eyes desperate. He lifted a hand to cup her cheek but dropped it away when she flinched. In all of the ways he'd envisioned their reunion, he never imagined she'd be afraid of him.

“No. It's not okay. How could you do this, Mulder? Do you have any idea what I went through, what I did to give him up? It was supposed to protect him, to keep him safe,” Scully replied, her finger a dagger as she poked at his chest, punctuating every word.

“Scully, stop,” he said, catching her wrists as she began flailing at him. He'd seen her angry before, had definitely been the recipient of said anger, and yet nothing could have prepared him for the look of betrayal on her face. “He's safe now. We can protect him. We--”

“What right did you have, Mulder? You don't know what these past few months have been like, what I've gone through--”

“What right? I'm his father,” Mulder cried, ignoring the sting her words had given him, pretending they didn't hurt more than if she'd actually slapped him. The sound of tires on gravel broke his attention away from her long enough for him to see a truck pulling into the lot, parking not far from where they stood. “Grab your bags and get in the car. I can explain on the way, but we need to go.”

“I can't,” Scully replied, her bottom lip trembling as she cast a mournful glance at William, still crying in the backseat. She didn’t know how to explain to Mulder how much she wanted to, but how afraid she was to allow herself such happiness again. “You should go, Mulder. We're safer apart.”

“No, we're not. My leaving is part of what set all of this in motion to begin with, and--”

“Hey,” a voice bellowed from behind them. A burly man sporting a goatee sidled up to them. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and shielded one behind his palm to light it. “Is there a problem here?”

“No,” Scully replied, crossing her arms as she cleared her throat. “We've had a long day on the road and are just a little tired. We were just about to be on our way to get some rest tonight.”

The man shifted his stance, almost as if he were disappointed that he didn't have to fight someone. He took a long drag from his cigarette and gestured to the car. “You two be safe then. And get that baby something to eat. Sounds like he's got a healthy set of lungs on him.”

“He does,” Scully said, her lips tipping upward into a smile, no longer looking at the stranger as he made his way into the store, choosing instead to look at her son. It had only been a matter of weeks since she'd given him up, but to her it was far too long. Her thoughts were interrupted by Mulder, who tucked her hair behind her ear and hooked a finger under her chin, urging her to look at him.

“So you'll come?” Mulder asked, relieved when she nodded her head.

“Yes,” she said, wanting to leave no room for doubt.

Mulder sighed with relief when she walked around the car to get in, but frowned in confusion when she opted for the front seat. He'd have thought she'd rush into the back seat, eager to scoop William into her arms. He cast a sideways glance at her profile, noting she looked more worn out and weary than the last time he'd seen her. It was far from the reunion he might have hoped, but as he turned the car on and headed for the motel, he hoped things would go up from there.

Later that night, after driving farther to make sure they weren't followed, they entered a hotel room that smelled stale and looked dreary, but the front desk clerk assured her they had hot water, and Scully yearned for a bath or at a minimum a shower. “I'm going go clean up,” she said, not looking up from her bag as she pulled out pajamas and headed for the bathroom.

“Scully, wait,” Mulder replied, tentative. He counted a full five seconds before she spun around to face him. He pulled William up, holding onto his hands so the boy could balance his feet on the mattress. “William is here. Don't you want to hold him? At least say hello?”

For a few seconds, she stood stock still, her eyes burning with tears as she struggled to remain composed. She tossed her clothes on a chair nearby, still not moving from where she stood. “Of course I do, Mulder, but that still doesn't explain why or how he's here. It doesn't explain why Skinner summoned me on a day off, but couldn't see fit to explain why. How could you do this?”

“Do what? Save my son? The only reason Skinner didn't tell you anything is because I asked him not to. I figured you might take it better from me,” Mulder said, supporting William as he plopped down onto the bed, his little legs giving out under him. “What I did is save him. When I got there, men had already killed both of his adoptive parents. They were trying to steal him because of what he can do.”

“How do you know about that?” Scully asked, regretting the words as soon as they left her mouth. She'd seen what Jeffrey Spender had done with the magnetite, had been told it could put a stop to William's abilities, but apparently it's potency had worn off.

“Well, it sure wasn’t because you saw fit to tell me,” he muttered, not needing to look at her to know he shouldn’t have said it. “Scully, I didn’t mean--”

“No, you did, Mulder,” she interjected, holding up a hand to stop him. “Do you really want to do this? Hash it out? You think I didn’t want to tell you? Mulder…” she paused, visibly shaking as she hovered near the foot of the bed. Her arms ached with the need to reach out and hold onto them both, but she resisted. “After that incident with the train, with the initial plan to bring you home, you all but ceased contact. Messages to the e-mail we’d been communicating through went unanswered, and with you using burner cell phones--”

“You knew how to reach me if you needed to, so don’t--”

“I was afraid,” she shouted. What was left of her composure melted as a sob wracked her body. All of the worry and exhaustion that she’d been feeling for months began leaking out of her in waves. “They came for him, Mulder. They wanted William for what he can do, for what he is. Jeffrey Spender broke in and injected him with something that allegedly would prevent his abilities,” she continued, shaking her head as she stared down at the ruddy brown carpet. Mulder’s feet appeared across from hers, standing just within her scope of vision, but still she refused to look up at him. “I knew that no matter what I did, our son would never be safe with me. I believed at the time that giving him up would make him safer, but apparently that was also untrue.”

Mulder rested a hand on her shoulder, attempting to draw her in. Her head settled against his chest and he rubbed small circles on her back while balancing William against his hip. It occurred to him that for the first time since they’d brought William home, he was holding the two people who meant the most to him at the same time. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, pressing a kiss against her hair.

At that, Scully knitted her brows together, forcing herself to look up at him. She’d been angry at him for leaving, that was somewhat true, although she also knew at the time he’d truly believed that was the best choice. “For what?”

Mulder sighed, his breath tickling her face. Cradled against his side, William squirmed, as if realizing he wasn’t currently the center of attention. He glanced at him before looking back at Scully. “I left you in a terrible position. If I’d stayed, we could have figured things out together. We could’ve--” his words were halted by Scully pressing her lips to his. “What was that for?” he asked, half of his mouth quirking upwards into a smile.

She kissed him again, more deliberately this time, stopping only when William’s babbling grew more incessant. She laughed softly against Mulder’s lips, a strange sound considering the circumstances, and she pulled away. “I missed you,” she said, shaking her head. It was then that she let herself look at William, and was only a little surprised to see him staring right back. “The both of you.”

Mulder sensed the shift and cleared his throat. “I know you didn’t have a choice then. And I regret not telling you sooner, but I wanted to be sure before I told you. I didn’t want to risk you getting your hopes up for nothing. But he’s here now.”

Before Scully could process what was happening, Mulder was passing William to her, and was heading towards the door. “Where are you going?” she asked, panic bubbling inside. She’d barely let him out of her sight since they’d reunited.

“Down the hall to get ice,” he replied, shaking the plastic bucket for effect. He nodded at William before opening the door. “Watch out for your mom while I’m gone, kid.”

Mom. The word echoed through Scully’s head as she focused back on William. It had only been a matter of weeks, but already he seemed bigger in her arms. “I have missed you so, so much,” she said, rocking him back and forth. She kissed his forehead, breathing him in, and couldn’t help thinking about the woman who’d agreed to raise him as her own, and who was now likely laying on a metal slab in a morgue somewhere. “I am so sorry, William. For everything you’ve gone through,” she said, pausing to look at their reflections in the mirror. “But I’m here now. Me and your father. And we’re going to do everything it takes to make sure you’re safe.”

Later that night, Mulder and Scully laid awake in the bed, turned inward with William sleeping soundly between them. He’d fussed at first, adjusting to his new surroundings, but once the boy was changed and fed, he fell asleep. Mulder couldn’t stop himself from looking back and forth between the two of them, William and Scully. A few days prior, he wasn’t entirely certain he’d see either of them again, and now the three of them were together like he’d wanted all along.

“Do you think we can do it?” Scully asked, keeping her voice down as she looked across the bed at Mulder. The look in his eyes suggested he wasn’t fully catching onto her meaning, so she scooted closer, mindful of William, and proceeded to elaborate. “Keep William safe, I mean. If they could find him when he wasn’t with either of us, what stops them from coming after him now?”

Mulder darted his tongue out to moisten his lips. Through the wall, he could hear the tv blaring from the next room over. The conditions were far from ideal, but he knew he had to do what he could to reassure her, whether he was completely certain or not. “Nothing,” he said, also realizing he needed to be honest. “Nothing will stop them, Scully. It’s up to us now. They’re after our son, and until we put an end to it, they’re bound to keep coming. But he’s safer with the two of us, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” she replied, a lump growing in her throat. She didn’t know if she’d ever grow used to the reality of having William to hold onto again, but she wanted to more than anything else.

“Do you remember our first case together?” Mulder asked, taking her snort as a reply. “No, I’m serious. We were in a hotel room, not entirely unlike this one. You believed you had the marks and feared you’d been abducted...although you didn’t believe in such a thing at the time,” he said, adding the last part for emphasis after he saw her raise an eyebrow and open her mouth, as if to refute what he was saying. “Anyway, that was the night I told you about Samantha’s abduction, the first time I opened up to you. It was also almost the first time I almost saw you naked, but--”

“What are you getting at, Mulder?” Scully asked, only mildly irritated. She was trying her best to stay awake, both out of a need to listen to him speak and also a need to make sure William was safe.

“The point is that it was the first time we really trusted each other, really opened up. I’m asking you to trust me now. We can do this. No one’s better suited to protect our son than us,” he replied. He snaked an arm across the bed, ghosting a finger down her arm, briefly delighting in the way goose bumps popped up as he did. “Do you trust me?”

Her limbs were growing heavy. Beside her, William turned his head to one side, burrowing against her chest. His tiny hand clutched her shirt as he let out a sleepy sigh. The moment was enough to make her weepy. She’d protected him before with everything she had, but now it all felt as if she had more to lose. “Yes,” she replied, more sure than ever that there were no other options. They’d save William together, even if it meant it was the last thing they’d ever do. She hoped with what strength she had that it wouldn’t be. “I do.”


End file.
